I'll Find a Way to Let You Have Your Way With Me
by Croik
Summary: Takes place after "Heroes Have In-laws, Too." Bruce helps Peter move into his new apartment.


Part of my Radioactive Boyfriend series (which I've finally put in a community, for convenience!). Takes place a few weeks after "Heroes Have In-laws, Too." Rated Mature!

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**I'll Find a Way to Let You Have Your Way With Me**

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"All right," Peter huffed as he straightened up and wiped sweat from his forehead. "I think that's the last box."

Bruce glanced up from his seat on the floor that he had occupied for the last half hour of unloading. "Good work, Peter." With a hand from Peter he climbed to his feet, and together they surveyed their afternoon of labor.

Peter grinned from ear to ear. His one bedroom apartment on the Lower East side wasn't exactly a private floor at Stark Tower, but he couldn't have been more pleased. He had a living room, a dining nook, a kitchen. The ceiling was tall and the floors were hardwood. The view from his few windows was the uninspiring face of an opposite apartment building, but at least it looked out over the street and not the alley. With some more furniture and a few personal touches, it would be absolutely perfect.

Even more perfect, with Bruce's arm snaking around his waist. "I probably should have assembled the bed in the _bed_room," said Bruce, eyeing his own work. "Are you sure you want it out here?"

"Eventually I want to build a loft," said Peter, mapping out the schematic in his mind. "The ceiling is tall enough for it. I'd rather use the bedroom for my equipment, so I can lock it up and not worry about the landlady stumbling in on it."

"You're always welcome to use the equipment at my suite, if you're worried about security."

"I know." Peter turned toward him, draping his forearms across his shoulders. When Bruce's other arm joined the first, Peter leaned into him happily. "But I want to have my own space, too. You promised to help me make something up for myself."

"I did." Bruce smiled and tilted his head. "And I will."

Peter leaned in for a kiss. Bruce felt almost pliable beneath his mouth, softened from working several hours in the afternoon heat. They kissed long and slow, craving closeness even as layers of sweat and exhaustion kept them peacefully lazy. Peter was content with slow. It had only been a few weeks since he'd been taught the value of caution and he was determined to be patient with his ever-tentative lover. He was just happy having Bruce with him, taking up the space that was finally his to own.

"I suppose you've already scoped out the area," said Bruce close to his ear. They swayed just slightly amidst the cardboard boxes. "Plenty of places for you to suit up, I'm sure?"

"It's pretty easy to get to the roof." Peter rested his chin on Bruce's shoulder. "If I have to. I'd rather not go in and out of this building in costume, if I can help it. But yeah, a few of the buildings around here would be good."

"And the rent is fine?"

"Totally fine." Peter closed his eyes and remembered how it had felt the first night he'd checked the building, watching Stark Tower as he sat on the roof. He liked the thought that he might have been able to see it from his window, if there weren't buildings in the way. "Mr. Stark was really generous. I told him I didn't need charity-"

"It's not charity, it's called you have a job in one of the most profitable corporations on the planet." Bruce gave his neck a little kiss. "You've earned it, Peter. I'm proud of you."

"You are?"

"Of course."

Their kisses were sweeter than ever, and Peter felt a shiver when Bruce's hands slid down to his hips. He hoped he wasn't fooling himself by hoping that Bruce was in a good mood. He _was_ content with slow, but if Bruce was willing to go further... He twisted his hips back and forth to feel Bruce's hands tighten against them.

"I'm a little surprised," said Bruce, tugging at Peter's belt loops, "that Aunt May isn't here for this."

"She's coming tomorrow after work. We're going to go shopping for dishes and sheets and things..." Peter took Bruce's hands and nudged them down to his ass. "I wanted it to be just us tonight."

"Just us and the boxes," Bruce teased, squeezing.

"Us and the boxes." Peter eased his knee between Bruce's thighs. "And the bed."

Bruce's attempt at a reply was silenced by a quick kiss. He tensed the way he always did when he was contemplating hitting the brakes, but then he relaxed, even tugged Peter more firmly against his hips. Maybe he could be convinced after all. Peter encouraged him, until they were stumbling into the newly-constructed bed.

"Not even a mattress pad," Bruce said as they tumbled onto it.

Peter rolled onto his back and drew Bruce down to him. "It's still better than the floor."

Bruce settled on top of him. He was heavy and warm, and Peter tingled as the press of his body drew memories to his surface. It had been way too long since he woke up in Bruce's bed, naked and exhilarated. He missed Bruce's weight pressing into him, covering him. Even remembering Hulk towering over him put flittering butterflies in his stomach. He'd been so busy catching up with the remainder of the internship, and finding a place, and being a super hero-Avengers _consultant_-that he hadn't even had time to take care of his own needs, let alone spend enough time with Bruce. He was young and humming and he wanted everything Bruce would offer him.

"Bruce." Peter wrapped his legs around Bruce's waist. "Can you spend the night?"

Bruce shivered. "If you want me to."

"Yeah." Peter's cheeks blushed so bright he thought they might light up. "I want to wake up with you in _my_ bed."

"Oh?" Bruce pushed up on his elbows so he could smile down at Peter. "It's still early," he teased. "And you already want to go to sleep?"

It was such a rare, wonderful view that Peter lost himself for a minute. He forgot wit and even charm, simply holding Bruce's gaze with full sincerity. "Sleep with me."

Bruce's smile faded. Peter's invitation rippled under his skin and left him breathless. Without a word he claimed Peter's mouth in a kiss-sank strong fingers into his hair and tugged, taking control. Peter groaned happily. When Bruce rocked against his hips he drew his knees in high and wide in encouragement. It did the trick; soon Bruce was humping him into the naked mattress, his breath hissing out the corners of his mouth through each aching kiss.

Peter snuck his hands under Bruce's shirt to tease his warm skin. "I haven't even had a real jerk off since the last time we were together," he said, his voice deepening to almost a moan as he felt the press of Bruce's hardening cock against his own. He rubbed them together with eager jerks of his hips. "I want to get off with you so bad."

"Peter," Bruce grumbled back. His shoulders hunched beneath the tickle of Peter's hands sticking to them. "When you talk like that, I-"

"What? You know you love it." Peter turned his lips against Bruce's ear, and though he was sure he was blushing again, he went through with it. "Like if I were to say how much I want that fat dick of yours inside me."

Bruce shuddered and pulled Peter's hair, tipping his chin back to expose his throat. Peter gasped, for a tiny moment nervous and then thrilled by the long, sloppy kisses Bruce sucked down his neck. He licked his lips and had to fight to form words. "I haven't just practiced blow jobs, you know," he said even as breath got harder and harder to come by. "Sometimes, when I think about you, I finger myself and-"

"Wait." Bruce untangled himself and reared back. He was breathing hard and he had that half-wild look in his eye that was frightening and arousing in equal measure. "Wait, Peter."

Peter stopped, but he did keep his legs tight around Bruce's hips to prevent him from going too far. It would have been frustrating if he hadn't seen firsthand what could happen when Bruce lost control. In fact, it was almost enticing; he did take some degree of guilty pleasure in the knowledge that he could drive the man beyond reason so easily. And despite his apprehensions, part of him was curious and eager to see that side of Bruce again-to be at the center of a titan's world, to be adored by might itself. The possibilities made him shiver.

But there was also shame in Bruce's flushed face, and it sobered Peter's imagination. "Sorry," said Peter, and he smiled in the hopes of lifting Bruce's mood a little. "Let's go slow."

Bruce took a few breaths and then reached down, sliding Peter's shirt up. His rough fingertips made a slow exploration of Peter's chest and abs, down to the lip of his pants. As he undid the button on Peter's jeans his lips followed the path his hands had taken. Peter arched into each little kiss. He even gave a happy murmur for the ones that connected just right. But as Bruce dragged his pants down he suddenly had an idea of what was really going on.

"Bruce." He tugged at Bruce's hair. "You're not just gonna blow me to shut me up and then run away for a cold shower, are you?"

Bruce slumped, turning his last kiss into a raspberry against Peter's belly button. "Because as great as that would be," Peter went on, "getting off _with you_ is half the point. I don't want it to be just about me."

"But I..." Bruce sighed and wrapped his arms around Peter's waist. "I know. I'm trying."

Peter reached down with both hands, sifting his fingers through Bruce's hair and gently scratching his scalp. It wasn't easy being patient when he was so horny, but he was trying, too. "It wasn't that big of a deal the first time, was it?" he asked. "The night down in the lab?"

"No, but that was before..."

His shoulders hitched, and Peter was quick to massage the tension out of them. "I know," Peter said quickly. "But you've got to get that out of your head, Bruce. I trust you. You should trust you, too."

"It's not that easy." Bruce got his arms beneath him and started to push up. "I _am_ trying, but-"

Peter wasn't about to let him escape. He planted one heel in the mattress and pushed, rolling Bruce onto his back. "Then trust _me_," he said as he climbed on top. He guided Bruce's hands back to his ass. "Because I'm not afraid of you."

He kissed Bruce hard to silence any protests, but then gradually softened, until each kiss was slow and easy again. He let that be it for a while-no anxious squirming, no dirty whispers, just lips and weight and a teensy bit of tongue, coaxing and relaxing. Bruce melted beneath him. Because Peter's pants were already loose he even slipped his hands beneath them, but that was all. For several minutes they stayed just like that, neither escalating, getting used to each other's body all over again.

_Slow_, Peter told himself firmly as he resisted the urge to grind against Bruce's hips. _Slow, slow._ He unbuttoned Bruce's shirt with only one hand so that even that would take longer. "Bruce," he said quietly, "I want you to teach me."

Bruce gave Peter's ass a long, loving squeeze. "You're already better at this than I am," he replied with a chuckle.

Peter finished with Bruce's shirt and then sat up so he could pull off his own. Despite all his fancy talk he still needed a moment to gather his courage. "I want you to teach me how to take it."

He could have sworn he felt Bruce's cock twitch. His face definitely did; he stared up at Peter with uneasy lust in his flashing eyes. His fingers tightened and almost kneaded. "I supposed you've 'practiced' that, too?" he asked.

"I have-I wasn't joking." Peter leaned forward again, and was both frustrated and amused when Bruce shrank deeper into the mattress. "Come on, Bruce-teach me. At your own pace. We can go as slow as you want."

Bruce squirmed as he gave it a few moments' thought. "In that case," he said carefully, "maybe we'll both need a shower after all."

Peter gave Bruce a quick, hard kiss as if sealing a contract and then started pulling him off the bed. "It's not much of a shower," he admitted. "But we'll both fit if we squish."

Bruce shook his head, but he let Peter lead him through the apartment to the bathroom. They paused in the hall to discard the rest of their clothing, given the small space they would have to work with; Peter was proud of himself in that he only blushed a little while freeing Bruce from his pants. "I still can't get over you," he murmured, touching Bruce's shoulders and chest. "I feel like I haven't had enough time to explore."

"You'll have time," Bruce replied. He slipped his hands down the back of Peter's boxers; the scratch of his fingernails felt better than Peter would have imagined. "But for now..."

He rubbed two fingers against Peter's tailbone, and Peter shivered, waiting almost on tip-toes for them to go further, but then Bruce retrieved his hands and urged Peter into the bathroom. "...We can go slow," he finally finished, and he reached into the shower to get the water started.

"So slow," said Peter, yanking his boxers off. He took his time with Bruce's. "We've got all night, right?"

Bruce stepped out of his underwear and welcomed Peter against him once more. "All night," he agreed.

It was easier said than done. When Peter swayed into Bruce's naked body he was aroused all over again, and his cock, already straining eagerly, grew harder still with skin to rub against. He forced himself to take long, deep breaths between each kiss, as if focusing on Bruce's tender lips would distract his teenaged instincts. Bruce wasn't much of a help, either. As seemed to be his singular devotion he squeezed and fondled Peter's pert ass in a rhythm that rocked them oh so gently together. He wasn't in any hurry; it defied Peter's comprehension that anyone could resist the momentum so gladly.

Steam began to fill the bathroom, and when Bruce tested the water and found it suitable, he urged Peter under the spray. The rush of water gave them both goose bumps as they did their best to situate comfortably in the enclosed space. Peter left the glass door open and didn't care if the tile floor got soaked.

"Is this going to be like some cheap porno movie?" Peter teased as he swept his wet hair back and then did the same for Bruce. "Where we soap each other up?"

"I was thinking more like a cheesy romance," said Bruce.

He plucked the fresh bar of soap out of its tray and tossed the packaging out onto the floor. As he worked up a lather between his hands, Peter couldn't help himself and said, "Better not drop that."

Bruce chuckled. "I thought that was why we're here."

"Yeah, well..." Peter squirmed, but he quickly fell still when Bruce's hands began to run up and down his back. "It's not like there's enough room for me to bend over for it..."

"I wouldn't mind watching you make the effort."

Peter was out of clever retorts. He closed his eyes and focused only on enjoying the attention Bruce was paying him. The hot water and strong hands were heavenly, each chasing the other down the long lines of his body. Bruce's inhibitions had vanished with the more sensual pace and he devoted himself fully to a thorough washing. With fingers splayed he rubbed Peter's back, chest, and stomach, even scrubbed Peter's armpits and behind his ears. Whether too kinky or just enough, it felt amazing to simply surrender to it. Peter tried to return the favor, but then Bruce reached his thighs, and his coordination failed him.

"Are you still with me?" Bruce teased, giving Peter's cock a gentle squeeze.

Peter groaned, the shower water seeping into the corners of his mouth as he kissed Bruce passionately. "Yes." He momentarily forgot his original plans and pressed selfishly into Bruce's broad palm. "Hell yes."

Bruce smiled and kissed him back. With just as much dedication as he had employed on the rest of Peter's body, he soaped and groped every tender crevice between Peter's legs. His rough fingers firmly probing the sensitive skin behind his balls was almost too much. Peter held his breath as Bruce inched further back, until just one fingertip barely tickled his hole.

"Turn around," said Bruce.

Peter was so quick to comply he bumped his nose against the tile. When Bruce settled in behind him he was startled by how instinctually his body responded: his back arched, his knees spread, his hips angled, just like some Xtube video he may have watched way too many times. Part of him expected Bruce to simply take him right then, and he tensed in anxious anticipation

"Shh." Bruce was careful not to lean too deeply into Peter as he gently spread his cheeks. "Relax, Peter. Not yet."

Peter licked his lips, and when he tried to look over his shoulder, he realized that his hands were stuck to the wall. Even when he concentrated he couldn't get them to move. "What are you gonna...?"

"Just relax." Bruce kissed the back of his neck. "This is still just preparation."

"Okay." Peter leaned his forehead into the wall and focused on keeping his breath calm and even. "I'm ready."

Bruce soaped up again, and then his hand was back in place, easing between Peter's ass cheeks. He was as patient and thorough as ever, and even though he kept to the exterior Peter couldn't help but tense and shiver every time a finger or knuckle rubbed across his hole. "This is going to take some getting used to," he joked weakly.

Bruce trailed kisses down the back of his neck. "You will," he said. "I promise."

He nudged Peter's feet further apart with his own and spread him wider to be sure he'd rinsed away all the soap before pressing his middle fingertip insistently against Peter's opening. He didn't go any further at first. The pressure was constant but gentle, soothing away Peter's nerves with tender circles. Gradually, Peter relaxed. He reminded himself of what they were heading toward, and more importantly, what it meant to him. Bruce often made him feel his age, but with the steam making him light-headed and Bruce's attention so singularly focused he felt humbled and vulnerable, and despite his best efforts he gave up a whimper of hushed adoration.

Bruce's reply was more rumble than words. He leaned into Peter's back and crooked his finger, slipping just barely inside. Peter reminded himself again to keep breathing, but found it wasn't so bad-he'd done more just on his own, and was already falling in love with the special brand of electric butterflies the sensation was putting in his stomach. Another embarrassingly earnest whine slipped out of him as Bruce eased in to his first knuckle and there stopped.

"Keep going," he said, smacking his lips.

Bruce shook his head against Peter's shoulder. Without going any deeper he fingered and teased, even momentarily retreated so that Peter could feel him intruding all over again. Peter couldn't help but fidget back and forth; it was strange, and exhilarating, and frustrating all at once. He _knew_ there was more. His body clenched and wavered with the need of it. When Bruce gave him a little more he moaned, and Bruce's mouth was there, nibbling at his jaw as if trying to taste the sound of his voice. Peter turned as much as he could in search of a proper kiss. By the time he found it Bruce's lips were heavy, his breath hissing. The scrape of his teeth, though tantalizing, reminded Peter to be cautious.

"Easy, Bruce," Peter murmured. Though it took more than his usual concentration, Peter pried one hand off the wall and reached behind him to squeeze the nape of Bruce's neck. "You still with me?"

Bruce sank his finger deeper. It was uncomfortable at first, but Peter was getting more used to it all the time, and he whimpered again as Bruce continued to stretch and loosen him. "I can feel him," Bruce said hoarsely. He growled low in his chest and left Peter shivering. "I think he's jealous."

Peter let his imagination be briefly swept up in the fantasy of the Hulk taking Bruce's place, of all the hot water and heaving muscle a guy could ask for. He thrust back against Bruce's hand. "Tell him...to wait his turn."

Bruce growled again. His body wound tight with restraint, and then he was grabbing Peter by the hips, turning him around again. "Go up," he said, slapping at Peter's thighs. "Do that thing."

Peter laughed breathlessly as he obeyed; though his knees were weak, he managed to stick his feet to the wall and spread his thighs. Bruce wriggled between them, keeping to Peter's right so he still had enough room to reach between them. Peter craned his neck for a kiss as Bruce resumed his beautiful, torturous fingering. He decided immediately that he liked face-to-face much better; when Bruce angled his hand he was able to continuing plying Peter while stroking his balls with the meat of his palm, granting Peter a much more familiar and very welcome surge of pleasure.

"Bruce..." Peter panted, stroking Bruce's neck and shoulders now that he didn't know what to do with his hands. "I don't know how much longer I can..."

"It's okay," Bruce said quickly. His muscles were taut beneath Peter's fingers, and though his pace was still slow Peter could tell how much of an effort it was for him to maintain it. "Go ahead-touch yourself." He kissed Peter's neck and began jerking himself off with his free hand. "You're young; you'll be ready again in no time."

Peter sputtered, but the invitation was too much to ignore. He kissed Bruce hard and took the advice, spreading his knees wider as he gripped his too-long-ignored cock. With the first stroke he realized all at once just how far Bruce's teasing had pushed him-he had to concentrate hard on not coming on the spot, and ever after the immediate danger passed he knew he wouldn't last long. It was just so different, touching himself with Bruce's finger still working inside him. His entire body felt open and receptive in a way he had never expected, and he couldn't wait until he had even more of Bruce easing in deep, possessing and remolding him. The thought spurred him on through every pump of his fist, until his balls grew tight against Bruce's palm and he came with a shudder.

"Oh fuck..." Peter closed his eyes, his hips jutting forward as Bruce continued to finger-fuck him through every seemingly endless spurt. The euphoria swept through him for longer than he could remember experiencing before and left him happily exhausted. By the time he was finished he finally felt he was as relaxed as Bruce had wanted him to be all along.

_And we're not done yet,_ Peter reminded himself. Bruce was still tense, his breath jagged, and Peter shushed him as he guided his hands to the wall. "Shh, easy," he murmured as he took over, stroking Bruce's swollen cock long and slow. "I've got you. It's just you and me here, Bruce. It's still _your_ turn."

Bruce mumbled something that Peter couldn't make out, and he didn't have the chance to ask, because then Bruce was kissing him hard and needy. Peter softened that, too, as best he could. With the haze of arousal lifting from his teenaged brain he devoted himself fully to Bruce's comfort and pleasure. Tender kisses and steady fingers made little quivers of Bruce's shuddering and quieted his heaving lungs. When he came it was a thing of beauty: the way he sighed into Peter's mouth, hesitant but relieved, winding down, unraveling. Peter drew him in tight and supported them both until they caught their breath.

"Hey, Bruce." Peter nibbled at Bruce's ear to try and keep the mood light. "You doing okay?"

"I'm fine," said Bruce. He rubbed Peter's thighs and hips in helpless adoration. "You were...perfect. Everything you said and did was perfect." His voice thickened with emotion he couldn't hide. "Thank you."

"Thank _you_." Peter smiled, pleased with himself and Bruce's compliments. "Man, it felt weird at first, but at the end..." He nudged Bruce with his knees. "I think you could have gone for two, though."

Bruce chuckled. He started to lean back but then changed his mind, content to kiss Peter's sloping shoulder. "Once we have lubricant," he promised. He paused. "You _do_-"

"Of _course_ I do, it was, like, the first thing I packed." Peter tipped his head back as he welcomed Bruce's affections. "I didn't want Aunt May anywhere near that box."

"Do you remember where you put it?"

"Yeah...ish." Peter sighed. "I'll find it...a little later."

He felt Bruce smile against his skin. "Okay."

They stayed in the shower a while longer, lazily kissing, touching and exploring, until the heat began to run out. Then it was time for a quick, final rinse and an even quicker hunt for the box that had the towels. When drying each other off proved to be too rom-com even for them, they momentarily split up so Peter could hunt out a very special box that had ended up in the back bedroom.

"Really doing this," Peter said to himself as he ripped through the tape and unwrapped his very inconspicuous T-shirt. "Gonna be great." He snatched up a bottle of lube and a handful of condoms-_all night_, they had agreed-and followed the sounds of movement into the living room.

Bruce had his towel around his waist and was stretching a fitted sheet over the mattress. When Peter walked in, he straightened up and gestured to the bed with pride.

Peter laughed. "The lack of mattress pad really bothered you, huh?" He tossed his items onto the foot of the bed and then stooped down for a bottle of water from amidst the crates.

"I have a vested interest in your bed," said Bruce as he drew a clean sheet over the top of his work. "You want me to spend some time in it, I assume?"

"Lots of time." Peter gulped down half the bottle and sighed. "All the time."

He handed over the bottle, and while Bruce was distracted taking a drink he not-so-stealthily untied both their towels. Bruce pretended not to notice, which only lasted until Peter was sidling up against him. With the water gone he let the bottle drop and wrapped his arms around Peter's waist.

"I know it's not what you're used to up in Stark Tower," said Peter. "But it's-"

"It's fine," Bruce interrupted. He kissed Peter and then prodded him down onto the bed. "Though to be honest, I'm just as excited to get your science room up and running."

Peter grinned as he stretched out on his back. "I thought so." He welcomed Bruce on top of him and between his thighs. "You can't wait to get your hands on my annealed brass."

"That's one way of putting it," said Bruce, drawing the loose sheet over them.

As much as Peter had enjoyed the shower, he had to admit there was a certain unmatchable appeal to clean sheets on naked skin. It might have only been psychological-it wasn't just Bruce in bed with him, it was Bruce in _his _bed. It meant something. As they wrapped each other up beneath the cool cotton Peter felt sentiment creeping up on him. He wanted to say something more. "Bruce...?"

Bruce hummed acknowledgement against Peter's mouth, but before Peter could continue he twisted his fingers in Peter's hair and tugged his head back. Even that subtle display of Bruce's possessive strength relit all the fires in Peter's belly, and he forgot about trying to be profound. Bruce understood. Peter moaned and arched and made absolutely sure that Bruce knew just how much he was enjoying their time together.

How much time, Peter wasn't entirely sure. He lost track somewhere between Bruce's hands and hips, and when he opened his eyes again the room had grown dark. _More romantic_, he told himself, licking his lips. _Like we spend the night together right here all the time. _He rolled his hips to show Bruce he was ready for another round.

Bruce gave him one more kiss and then sat up, reaching behind him for their supplies. "You're really sure about this?" he asked.

"I've been sure about this for a long time," said Peter. He spread his knees; just remembering what they'd done in the shower was starting to make him hard again. He gave his cock a squeeze as if that might keep it in check. "What about you?"

Even in the dark Bruce's face was a very simple read: lust mixed with trepidation that Peter was very familiar with. He swallowed hard as he uncapped the bottle of lube. "I want to be sure about it. You know I do, I just..."

"Hey." Peter sat up and grabbed Bruce by the back of the neck with both hands. "You're doing great," he said honestly. "And it's going to be fine-it'll be good for you." He kissed the corner of Bruce's mouth. "Just go slow. Tell me what you need from me, and I'll do it."

Bruce sighed against him, and after a few moments of contemplation he said, "I want you on your stomach."

Though Peter was disappointed to lose his view, it was a little soon to be breaking his word. He kissed Bruce and then dropped onto the mattress again, rolling onto his stomach. The smooth fabric against his growing erection made him hiss, and he took a minute to arrange himself into a comfortable position. Then Bruce's hands were on him. He closed his eyes and breathed in clean cotton as Bruce's strong fingers took hold of his ass.

"It really is perfect," Bruce mumbled, squeezing happily. He even bent down and kissed it. "How do you get it so perfect?"

Peter chuckled in embarrassment. "Crime-fighting is a great workout."

Bruce parted his cheeks, and Peter clenched his fists against the mattress, all but giddy with anticipation. Then Bruce's finger was there, slick and cool with lube, sinking into him again. He was still warm and relaxed after the long shower and casual foreplay, and with the added help there was almost no resistance-just pressure and exhilaration.

"Wow." Peter shifted his knees and tried to raise his hips some. "That makes quite a difference."

"You said you've practiced this," said Bruce, gently working the lube in and around his hole. "I hope you didn't mean dry."

"No, it's just...it's _you_." Peter was already flushed but he managed to grow redder still as Bruce circled his asshole with his thumb. "I'm not _that_ flexible. I can't get in that deep by myself..."

Bruce was quiet for a moment and then pushed in further. "_That_ deep...?"

Peter groaned, twitching around Bruce's knuckle. "Deeper, deeper..."

Bruce pulled his hand back, and Peter would have complained, but then he added a second finger. The stretch rippled up through Peter's body, on the edge of being uncomfortable but still satisfying. Peter mumbled wordless approval into the sheets as Bruce gave him a few easy strokes to get him used to the added thickness and then began to thrust slowly in an out.

"Still good?" Bruce asked.

When Peter tried to reply, it came out as flustered jibberish. He tried again. "Yeah. Yeah, it's...ahh, it's weird, but it's good." He shifted his hips again, and Bruce waited until he was situated before continuing. "It's good..."

Bruce added his other hand, also slick with lube, massaging Peter's taint down to his balls. It was unexpected, and Peter squirmed, feeling the last shreds of discomfort and embarrassment slip away. The intimacy of every deliberate touch left him breathless and muddy. When Bruce's fingers pushed in deep, when Peter arched his back just _so_, everything suddenly made a little more sense.

Bruce hummed as he began to draw tiny circles with his fingertips. At first it was the same kind of pleasant strangeness that Peter had acclimated to in the shower, but all that pressure began to build into real pleasure. It tingled all through his muscles, down the length of his throbbing cock like live wire. "Whoa," he mumbled senselessly. When he pushed back, Bruce gave his balls a squeeze that made him see white. "Okay, that's...that's new, that's..."

"You like that?"

"Fuck, yes, it's like..." But Peter couldn't explain what it was like. He groaned into the mattress as Bruce returned to a back and forth motion, sometimes stroking along the sides of his prostate, sometimes skimming directly over it. Every touch built on the last, throwing sparks along his nerves and quickening his pulse. He'd never been so hard, and he couldn't help but rub the head of his cock against the sheets. "It feels good," he said, half muffled by bedding. "But it's not..."

Bruce leaned down and kissed the small of his back. The delicate touch caught Peter off guard again, and he was so enraptured by all Bruce's attention he didn't realize at first that Bruce was adding a third finger. "It's not enough, is it?" said Bruce, plying him expertly. "You need something more."

"Yes..." Peter rocked back, and Bruce thrust in deep, back and forth, until they were moving against each other in unison. He tried to be patient, to enjoy the warm-up and let his body welcome every tantalizing sensation. He didn't want to push Bruce too hard or too soon. But then Bruce gave his balls another squeeze, and urgency mounted inside him like waves against a dam.

"Bruce," Peter whined, digging his palms into the mattress as he arched his back. "Please, I can't... I need..."

Bruce pulled his hands back again, and a moment later Peter heard a rip of paper. Peter snuck a peek over his shoulder; Bruce was licking his lips as he rolled a condom on. He was flushed and breathless, eyelids fluttering, and he was beautiful. When he caught Peter watching him, his little headshake was just as endearing.

"You're ready?" he asked.

"Yes, yes." Peter turned his face to the bed again. "I'm ready."

He heard the cap of the lube bottle open and then close, heard the quiet swishes of movement of Bruce's hands. The mattress shifted beneath him, and he held his breath, shivering as Bruce crawled over him. Hot, unsteady lips kissed up his spine. He thought he was ready. Feeling Bruce pant against his back made him a little less sure. Bruce's hands had been so in control that Peter had allowed himself to forget for a moment what was at stake, but then Bruce's tiny groan of restraint brought it all back.

"Bruce." Peter reached behind him and found Bruce's wrist, giving it a squeeze. "Go slow."

"I'm okay," said Bruce. He pressed one more long kiss between Peter's shoulder blades and then nudged Peter's knees forward, positioning them. "Just keep doing that."

Peter took a deep breath when he felt the head of Bruce's cock nudging against him. "Doing what?"

"Saying my name."

Bruce shifted his hips, and then he was inside. It was only the tip but Peter felt the difference keenly, and he moaned, fighting the urge to pull away. He knew it would get easier, and it did; true to his word Bruce eased into him slowly, almost reverently, softening the burn with calming hands and fleeting kisses. "Breathe," he murmured, struggling to take his own advice. He pulled back some, and though his next stroke was just as tender, it was deeper, stretching and fulfilling.

Though Peter had been impressed with his lover's size time and time again, and had devoted hours to the fantasy of it in him, the real thing was more than he had ever counted on. All he could do was grip the sheets in white fists and gasp after lost breath with every movement of Bruce's body. It wasn't exactly pleasure that put sweat on his brow, but it was tight, and intimate, and so different than making love to Bruce in his Tower bedroom. He wanted so much more. Already his muscles were burning around his bones, eager and enraptured, and he wanted to relive again and again the sensation of Bruce plunging into him.

"Bruce..." Peter made small adjustments to the angle of his hips and thighs, and Bruce waited, quivering, for him to be finished. He resumed with greater conviction, and Peter was left whimpering by the time Bruce was pressed flush against his ass. "Bruce, God, it's..."

"Remember how it felt before," Bruce said. He kept one hand on Peter's hip as he began to establish a real rhythm. "How good it was."

Peter took in a deep breath and let it out. It was hard to concentrate with Bruce pumping into him, but he remembered those crafty fingers from only minutes ago, seeking out his most sensitive places. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused, until the echoes of that pleasure flowed through him. "Bruce," he gasped, the name spilling out of him so naturally it might as well have been the only word left in his brain. He pushed back against Bruce's cock and shuddered when its head found his prostate. His insides churned with a sensation like thunder. "Bruce, it's too much..." Bit by bit he reciprocated anyway, reclaiming their earlier synchronization: meeting Bruce's thrusts, guiding him to that perfect spot. He whimpered shamelessly as Bruce claimed him again and again. "Holy shit, it's so tight-you're so _big_."

Bruce growled into Peter's back, and his already mind-erasing cock seemed to grow harder still with the compliments. He gave Peter one good slam of his hips, a slip of control that left them both nearly feverish with excitement, before wrangling himself in again. "Keep saying it," he huffed as he sat back on his heels. He tugged Peter up on his knees, and applied another generous helping of lube before penetrating him again. "Please, Peter."

The change in angle was everything Peter hadn't known he needed. It gave Bruce much needed leverage, gave him confidence that spurred each thrust of his cock deeper. Peter gave up on trying to match him and instead let him do all the leading, steady and heavy and wonderful-just taking it, until his voice was raw from moaning Bruce's name over and over. Bruce's hands roamed over his back and sides and at last fastened at his waist for even greater control. And Peter loved it. He surrendered to Bruce's strength and soaked up every instant of it.

"Bruce..." Peter groaned through his teeth when he felt Bruce's strokes grow ragged; he was himself to the point of bursting, but he could tell Bruce was even closer and it wasn't enough to finish him off. He thought of Bruce's voice in his ear and re-braced his weight so he could reach for his dick. "_Bruce_, I..."

Bruce grabbed him by the wrist and drew his hand away. He even leaned back on his heels again, and just as Peter started to whimper in protest, he pulled Peter up and then back against his chest. His breath was hot and fast against Peter's neck as he guided him into his lap and onto his cock. "Do it," he hissed. With Peter half-sagged against him he wasn't able to move as much, but he pumped into his young lover with a sudden recklessness. The quick, hard snaps of his hips drove Peter almost senseless, and as he was thinking, _I wish he'd fuck me like this the entire time_, Bruce began jerking him off just as roughly.

"Come on, Peter," Bruce was growling, and for a moment Peter could have sworn he felt the presence rumbling beneath his skin. "Come on, _come._"

Peter's entire body drew tight, and he teetered on the edge for what felt like hours-riding Bruce with all the strength he had left, his name on his lips like a prayer-until pleasure overwhelmed him with an orgasm that turned his world white. His muscles clenched around Bruce's still-moving cock, sending aftershocks up and down his nerves, and then Bruce was coming, too, panting into Peter's shoulder.

"Bruce..." Peter closed his eyes, trying to savor every sore muscle and firing synapse for as long as possible. His chest heaved and his fingers tingled. When he could get strength into his limbs he reached back to find Bruce's neck. "Bruce, are you...?"

Bruce grumbled into Peter's neck. Peter could feel his lips moving, but he seemed to have lost words, instead clutching Peter possessively to his chest. Breath by breath, he came back into himself, until he was ready to let Peter go.

Peter let out a long sigh as he dropped onto his chest. A moment later Bruce hit the mattress beside him, and it took some clumsy figuring before they were able come together. They tangled each other in sweaty sheets and lazy arms, both exhausted. "Bruce," Peter said again as he fumbled nervous kisses at Bruce's lips and cheeks. "You really can say something now, you know."

"Peter..." Bruce sighed. He tickled idle shapes into Peter's back with his fingernails. "You okay?"

Peter chuckled and gave him another kiss. "I'm asking _you_." He wriggled in closer, and though his muscles were ready to flop off his bones, that didn't stop him from trying to touch Bruce all over. "You got a little intense, there."

"Sorry, I-"

"No, I liked it." Peter rubbed Bruce's chest, fantasizing that his touch was reaching down into the beast beneath. "Didn't I tell you this would be good for you?" He licked his lips. "It _was_ good, yeah?"

Bruce surrendered a tired grin. "Yeah," he admitted, all beautiful half-lidded eyes and blushing cheeks. "Yeah, it was good."

Peter kissed him, long and happy. "I'm proud of you," he said, and though some part of him registered it was a strange thing to say, he knew Bruce understood. "Really."

"Peter..." Bruce's brow furrowed as he tried to respond, but he ultimately gave up. "Thank you."

"You sound like you're gonna pass out," teased Peter. He smoothed Bruce's hair back so he could kiss his forehead. "Get some sleep. I'm going to take another shower and round us up some food, and when you wake up..." He grinned. "I'm gonna give you the nicest, most relaxing blow job ever."

Bruce laughed, but he couldn't come up with a proper response to that, either. "Okay."

"We agreed all night, right? I'm holding you to it."

Peter started to get up. Even with all they had just done together, he was still embarrassed about his disheveled state, and even if his knees weren't up to keeping him on his feet much longer he wanted to make an attempt at the shower. But Bruce stopped him, tugging him back to the bed. "You know," he said, meeting Peter's eyes despite his own obvious fatigue. "A year ago, I thought..." He winced and squeezed Peter's hand. "I thought I'd never have anything like this again."

Peter was still too raw to process sincerity like that. It tightened his ribs and he couldn't help but melt back into place at Bruce's side. "For a really smart guy," he replied, "you can be pretty wrong sometimes." He welcomed Bruce against his chest and under his chin. "You have me."

Bruce melted, too. His breath evened out and soon he was asleep, as still and peaceful as Peter had ever seen him. Peter smiled into Bruce's temple; his shower could wait.


End file.
